


A Long Night's Journey

by parallelmonsoon



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Animal AU, Animal Abuse, Animal Death, Animal Instincts, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Incredible Journey, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:00:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22306831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parallelmonsoon/pseuds/parallelmonsoon
Summary: Virgil is a street dog who knows better then to trust. Roman was born to be a champion. Remus refused to play the game. Logan lived a pampered life and hated every second of it. Deceit suffered.And Patton? Patton just wants to go home.A take on The Incredible Journey. Joan runs a transport company that transfers animals to rescues and fosters in other states. This time around he has a full load- until a crash on the highway sees four dogs, a cat, and a crippled rattlesnake lost in the wilderness. Patton is sure that if they just find his person everything will be alright. First, though, they'll need to work together to survive.This is NOT a Disney flick. There will be some graphic scenes and plenty of drama. This is more based on the original novel and the podcast Film Reroll.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 38





	A Long Night's Journey

Meat.

A hamburger, chopped up fine and gone slightly ripe under the hot summer sun. Virgil crept closer, dark nose working. All he could smell was grease and cheese and dense, meaty goodness.

He hesitated. Looked left, then right. Scuttled sideways, tail tucked tight, pacing in a great loop around this sudden windfall. His belly grumbled. His belly **hurt**.

His last meal had been three days ago. Half a mashed banana and a moldy muffin. He'd thought himself lucky at the time, but this...

This was *meat*.

Another loop, drifting just a little closer. He'd seen dogs die from poison. Die bloody and frothing.

Another sniff, and his belly cramped tight, a sudden, sharp ache that made Virgil twist to nip at his own flank.

Virgil darted in. Two giant bites and he was gone, dashing off. He didn't stop running until he made it to the safety of his den. A tiny bolthole in the corner of an alley. Two exits, and an overturned trash can to sleep in- what more could a dog want?

He waited, as the shadows grew long and the moon rose. Waited to die. Until finally he slept and woke early with a yawn and a vague feeling of surprise.

Not poisoned, then

He didn't go back right away. He'd learned early on that lingering near any one street was unwise.

Over the next few days he made the rounds of his territory. Two city blocks, a mean little slice of nothing. Abandoned lots where the weeds grew tall, crumbling brownstones. No restaurants, no grocery stores, just needles and broken bottles and the occasional bloated pigeon with a crop full of plastic.

It had been easier, back at the beginning. Or maybe Virgil had just been bolder. More willing to trespass, to skulk around the edges of better hunting grounds. But over the years he'd been pushed out, pushed back, driven off by dogs more willing to show their teeth.

He was bigger then some of the others, but built lanky and lean. All leg, but not tall enough to clamber into the dumpsters. Dark furred, wire-haired and scruffy...not the sort of fluffy, soft pup that made the humans coo and toss hand-outs.

An in-between dog in a nowhere place. All Virgil had on his side were his speed and his instincts. He'd learned to pay heed when the hair on his hackles pulled stiff.

It took three days before Virgil made his way back to the street and the tidy little duplex on the corner. He was trotting fast, thinking of the dumpster at the far end. There was a rust-rotten hole in its side, and on rare occasions a bag fell close enough for Virgil to drag it through.

His head came up. His muzzle tilted, nose twitching.

Meat.

Just like before. A pile of it, heaped high on the narrow strip of yellowing grass.

Virgil whined low. Licked his lips and trotting past.

He had learned to trust his instincts, and his instincts were telling him to be wary. This wasn't a half-eaten sandwich moldering in the gutter. It smelled fresh, and Virgil couldn't understand why a human would have left it in such a conspicuous place.

It was new, and Virgil did not trust new things.

There was no bag in the dumpster. No crumbs left at the feral cat feeding station in the sad excuse for a park. Two days later, and hunger drove Virgil back the duplex. He didn't expect much. One was lucky. Twice was odd. Three times...

Meat, and not the same meat either. Not meat covered in flies and growing maggots. A new pile of it, bun and all, glistening with ketchup.

Virgil took his time. Paced and whined and retreated, until finally he broke and darted in.

Another two days and there it was again. Two days after that...

A month later, and the meat was no longer something new. It was part of his routine, something to look forward to. Virgil was always careful...but maybe he hesitated a little less. Lingered a little longer to lick the grease from the grass.

There came a day when things were new again. The meat had moved. Just slightly, a little to the left of where it ought to be. Closer to the porch, and that meant it was closer to the duplex door.

Closer to humans.

He knew at least two of them lived here. He had spotted them a time or two, always at a distance. Smelled them, always, a lingering mix of sweat and musk and false flowers.

Virgil left. Came back. Circled around and around, sniffing and whining and so, so hungry. He'd been late to the plate on his last visit and the raccoons had gotten there first, leaving little more then a dot of mustard and a tuft of wilting lettuce.

Later, belly full, he lay in his can and watched the rain patter down. Virgil was not a dog given to pondering the nature of things, but all of this confused him. The humans had to be leaving the meat out for a reason. He knew they were the ones who fed the cats at the park. Was it possible that they were putting the meat out for dogs?

Was it possible that they were putting it out for **Virgil**?

It was a startling, terrifying idea. Virgil had had his share of run-ins with humans who were quick to wield a stick or a stone, but in his experience the majority were simply indifferent. Even the ones he had lived with, so long ago...

They had never been cruel. They had simply never understood. They had moved too quickly, spoken too loudly, hugged too tightly, expected too much. A different dog might have thought them perfect. Virgil...

Virgil had run.

A week later, and the meat had moved again. Further to the left, and a week later further still. Until finally it was just under the lip of the porch, and that meant Virgil would need to crouch just slightly to reach it.

He left with an empty belly that day, and it took another week before his growling gullet forced him back. He ate so quickly that he brought it back up only a few minutes later, steaming hot and stinking of bile. Virgil waited for his roiling gut to settle before swallowing it back down. He couldn't afford to waste it.

The next week was a bad one. There was a new dog about...white and tan and thickly muscled. Virgil had managed to avoid him so far, but he left his mark over Virgil's own on every pole and tree. It was only a matter of time before they met, and Virgil knew what would happen then.

He would tuck his tail. He would do what he always did. He would run and leave his home behind.

And it was his home. The trashcan, cold and ridged and coated with slime. The rust-eaten dumpster. The park where the feral cats gathered to sing their night songs. The lot where the drunks gathered and dropped scatterings of chips. It wasn't much. Scarcely anything.

He was going to miss it.

He knew these streets. Somewhere else might be better, but it would also be new, and the thought was enough to make Virgil whimper like a pup.

Keeping clear of the new dog had made it hard to visit his usual scavenging grounds. Virgil was already dripping drool when he scuttled up to the duplex. This might well be his last meal in this territory, but at least it would be a good one.

But this was new too...not just the position of the burger, but the strange sort of enclosure around it. It was fully under the porch now, surrounded on three sides by something that looked like an open metal fence.

Another day and Virgil might have chosen not to risk it. But he wasn't just hungry...he was ravenous. Sick with it, legs trembling so hard he could barely keep his feet.

And this meat...it was Virgil's. It was for **him**. He decided that, suddenly, knowing full well it might not be true but choosing to believe. A little kindness, and he needed that as much as he needed the food. Needed to believe that the humans in the house had spotted a starving stray and taken pity.

He had to crawl. Low on his belly, all too aware of how it left his rear vulnerable to attack. Even so, he didn't eat quickly this time. He savored it, this meat that was just for him, for Virgil.

The metal under his paws shifted. Something rattled down against Virgil's rump, jolting him forward.

Trapped. He was trapped. Virgil spun, but the cage had closed behind him and there was no way out.

He pawed at the bars until his pads bled. Threw himself against them, bit at them, but they were sturdy and strong and he was a weak, foolish pup. A whelp too stupid to know better.

He heard the door open above him. Footsteps, and then the light dimmed as one of the humans bent down to look under the porch.

Virgil growled. Cut himself off just as quickly and huddled low. He caught only a brief glimpse of a long-haired woman before he shifted to face the corner. Looking at her would be a challenge, and Virgil was in no state to challenge anyone.

She was talking to him. Low and soft, and Virgil could not understand his own stupidity. The meat had been for him, after all. A lure. He knew what happened next.

It seemed to take a long time before the man with the van came for him. The woman waited with him. Gloating, no doubt. Virgil kept his head turned, facing away into the darkness under the porch.

He hoped they might take him out of the cage before they loaded him into the van. It would have meant an opportunity to escape, but of course they were too clever for that. Virgil cringed when the cage was lifted. Exploded into motion, spinning and thrashing and pissing, splattering blood from his torn pads. He knew it was useless. Knew it was over.

He had stayed when he should have run, and now he had to pay the price.

* * *

“Poor guy.” The dog was a drooling, urine soaked mess. Thomas grimaced when the terrier mix started gnawing at the cage. He was going to break his teeth if he kept that up. “Thanks so much for all your hard work, Elizabeth”

She had tears in her eyes. It was always hard, watching the dogs panic. Thomas knew that the homeowner had been trying to coax this particular wily guy into a livetrap for a good few months. “He'll be okay,” he told her softly.

“He's so scared...” she said, and Thomas knew she was having second thoughts. Maybe she should never have called animal control. Maybe the dog was better off on the streets. Maybe she should have left well enough alone.

“He is,” he agreed, because there was no use lying about it. “But see how skinny he is? See the scars and those bald spots on his hips? That's mange. I honestly don't think he would have made it through the winter. I promise you did the right thing.”

The young woman nodded. She took a deep breath, leaning down a little to look into the cage. The dog had given up his escape attempt and gone rigid. A canine statue, all black fur and white-rimmed, desperate eyes.

“We already have a rescue partner in mind,” Thomas told her, “They're out in New Jersey, but they specialize in street dogs from India and other countries. It will take some time and work, but hopefully he'll learn that humans aren't so bad.”

Elizabeth nodded and took a deep breath before wiping her eyes. “Good luck,” she said to the dog, then turned on her heel and hurried off without looking back. Thomas didn't begrudge her the abrupt goodbye.

Thomas closed the back of the van and hoisted himself up into the driver's seat. He couldn't see the dog in the back, but he could hear him moving around and the nail-on-chalkboard sound of metal flexing. Chewing on the bars again, damn it.

“Alright, buddy,” he said over his shoulder as he pulled away from the curb, “Welcome to day one of your new life.”


End file.
